


Damn Near Fell in Love

by chase_acow



Category: Dragon Age 2
Genre: M/M, fandomverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-15
Updated: 2011-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/pseuds/chase_acow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stroll along the Wounded Coast turns out to be a little more exciting than Anders wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn Near Fell in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to VipersWeb @ LJ for the beta! *muah*!

"Nobody move!"

Instantly, Anders froze, even though he was in the awkward position of half-turned with his weight unbalanced. As many jokes as Hawke cracked, everyone knew to shut up and listen when he used that tone of voice. If Anders had a few fantasy of the rogue using that voice in bed, he was sure he wasn't the only one.

"Anders, be careful you-"

Hawke didn't need to finish the sentence. Anders heard the tell-tale click of a trap arming and felt smooth metal under the toe of his boot instead of the uneven pebbles strewn across the Wounded Coast. Slowly, he twisted around so he faced forward again, but he made sure not to shift his weight even the slightest bit.

"Maybe we should take this as Divine intervention and leave the mage to his fate," Fenris sneered, always willing to cut Anders loose from the mortal coil.

"Not helping," Hawke said through gritted teeth as he approached in a careful crouch. "Fenris, you and Aveline trace your footsteps back ten paces. That should put you out of blast range in case Anders can't bother to stay still long enough for me to fix this."

Anders snorted and looked down, finally noticed the trap panels littering the narrow path. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure no one made it out the other side in one piece. Hawke nimbly avoided them all and paused at Anders' side. He rubbed his fingers together and then bent to the task.

Wind blew cold sea air up the cliff, easily finding the worn places in Ander's threadbare robes. At one time, the feathered pauldrons had been both warm and stylish, but that had been many years before. Before the blood, running and hiding, and before the unhappy passenger in his head.

Justice stirred uneasily at the thought, a deep burn in his stomach that made him turn his attention to the trap makers. Anyone who would set traps this dangerous with no thought to any innocent that blundered through deserved justice. Deserved death and pain.

"How about we save the glow party for another time?" Hawke asked quietly, capturing Anders attention again. He bent so low that his ear touched the ground as he peered under the metal plate. "It's not dark enough to need a night light yet."

"Are you sure that's safe?" Anders asked, worried that if he set the trap off, not even Hawke's swift back flip would save the rogue. It seemed he spent quite a bit of time worrying about his friend's many brushes with death.

Hawke sat back on his heels and glanced up with a grin, squinting in the sunlight that set off the red birthmark across his nose. "I'm sure it's not safe," he said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "This is a very technical trap, I've never seen one so complex." He sounded like he relished the challenge.

Anders swallowed and concentrated on staying absolutely still. "Maybe you should back away and let me set it off alone," he offered. Even if he died, it might be better than this strange time-share he's set up with his friend from the fade. He should have remembered that spirits didn't make very good house guests. "I could probably cast a healing spell in time to save me."

Shaking his head, Hawke bent back down, "Whoever made this set it up to explode right into your softest bits."

"I've yet to see a mage who could cast spells with his crotch on fire," Aveline helpfully called from where she and the elf watched from safety.

He fought the urge to protectively cup himself, "Hawke?"

"Give me some time and I'll have us on our way back to the Hanged Man," Hawke said, pulling his tools from underneath his sash. The tiny wires should have looked ridiculous in Hawke's large hands, but he handled them as deftly as Anders would a newborn kitten. "You can buy the first round."

The sun shifted the shadows several fingerlengths while Hawke concentrated on the traps and Anders tried not to twitch. He decided quickly that nothing made a person want to shimmy as much as being told not to move. Fenris and Aveline broke out their whetstones and went to town on their blades. That was when he noticed a building ball of pain in his outstretched leg.

"Hawke, I don't mean to alarm you," Anders bit the inside of his lip, wincing as his ankle wobbled slightly, "but I'm starting to cramp up."

Sighing, Hawke stored his lock-picks back in their hiding place and scooted forward until his shoulder bumped Anders thigh. "Here, rest some of your weight on my back," Hawke said, wrapping his fingers around the soft leather of Ander's boots. "I'll try to rub a bit of feeling back into them."

Hawke massaged Anders' calf, rubbing warmth and relief into his tired muscles. Anders nearly fell over in relief when Hawke teased a cramp away. He dropped a hand to Hawke's shoulder, needing both the extra balance and the extra warmth he provided. He just wished that it hadn't taken a life or death situation to get Hawke's hands on him.

That was when he made the mistake of looking down.

"I suppose this would be an obvious moment to praise your cunning and dexterity?" Anders mumbled, trying desperately to think of anything but how close Hawke's face was to his groin.

"Why doesn't anyone ever praise my singing voice?" Hawke pretended to complain as his fingers slipped underneath Anders' robes and caught on his thin breeches. He stroked and worked Anders' fatigued muscles until they no longer quivered trying to tie themselves in knots.

"Perhaps it is because your wailing sends even the tom cats fighting for mates running for cover," Fenris answered, showing that he'd never met a rhetorical question he didn't like.

Chuckling, Hawke shifted to look at the elf and in doing so, rubbed his cheek up the inside of Anders thigh and across his hip. Anders felt a brief burst of warmth, and shivered even while his blood rushed between his legs.

"Sweet Maker," Anders sucked in a gasp, but knew he'd been too loud when Hawke's head whipped around. He bit his lip, simultaneously mortified and aroused beyond all logic. Hawke wasn't exactly topping the list for safe people to be around, but Anders couldn't get the other man out of his head.

"Why, Anders, is that a control rod in your pocket or are you happy to see me?" Hawke somehow managed to inch even closer so he could poke Anders with his chin.

"I swear to Andraste, I will blow us both up if you don't stop teasing me," Anders was happy that his voice didn't creep up even when Hawke's hands first brushed the bottom swell of his ass. He felt his ankle wobble and sweat break out along his hairline. He couldn't believe Hawke would be so immature.

Actually, he could.

Hawke's smile dropped, and even though Anders knew Hawke wasn't the mage of the family, he would swear the rogue's eyes smoldered. "It's only teasing if I don't follow through," he said, his voice a low rumble that Anders could feel from where they were pressed together. "Trust me."

"Are you two going to get a room soon? Some of us actually work to earn a living."

"Keep your armor on, Aveline," Hawke shouted, instantly back to his old surly self as he stood and dusted off his knees. He leaned in close to Anders so that his lips brushed Anders' ear, "I disarmed the trap before you said your leg was cramping."

"You . . . you," Anders wasn't quick enough to figure out exactly what he wanted to call Hawke. He stomped down hard on the trap plate and flinched at the click, but a lack of fireballs shooting up his robes proved that Hawke was as good as his word. That didn't mean Anders didn't owe him a well placed knee to the groin.

"Wonderful. The mage is not dead. Let us all rejoice," Fenris' dry and even voice broke Anders' attempt to glare Hawke to death.

Hawke slung a friendly arm over Fenris' shoulder and walked down the path that would take them back to Kirkwall. Anders watched them disappear around the bend and felt empty. Tired and drained as if everything worthwhile had been sucked out of him leaving a hollow little mage-shaped body.

 _We could make sure he doesn't leave us feeling this way again. The mages require freedom and he doesn't care. He gets in the way and keeps us doing errands like a Chantry urchin. He is a distraction. We can not afford distractions._

Aveline gave him a wide berth as she followed the other two, and it took Anders several heartbeats to break from Justice's agenda. He looked down and only saw his flesh, slightly reddened from all the running around outside, but just hands. His hands.

"Last one to the Hanged Man buys the first round!"

Sighing, Anders shook the last bit of tension out of his legs and then jogged to catch up with the others. Irritation had swept away any lingering arousal. All he wanted was to go back to his clinic and get lost in some mindless task and forget about Hawke's Maker-damned teasing.

"Anders."

Hawke's low voice startled him into looking up from the white sand. Hawke waited for him while Fenris and Aveline disappeared over the next rise. He had one of his throwing knives out tapping on his knuckles, though it quickly disappeared into one of Hawke's many hiding places as Anders approached.

"I- thank you, Hawke. For saving me," Anders said, ducking his head down while he tried to pass Hawke without resorting to incidental mage fire.

"Anytime," Hawke said, quickly blocking the path and maneuvering them until Anders found himself sandwiched between sheered rock and Hawke's hard chest. "Any excuse to get on my knees for you."

"You shouldn't say such things," Anders said, still talking to the scrub brush as heat rushed to his ears again. He felt his heart rush into his throat, and he wiped sweat from his palms off on the sides of his robe. He'd spent too many nights awake in his cot thinking about Hawke on his knees.

"Why not?" Hawke asked, leaning close as he brushed their cheeks together. His beard was softer than in looked and soothed away Anders' frown. "I always mean every word I say."

At that, Anders had to turn his head only so Hawke could see him roll his eyes. "Maybe you mean what you say when you say it, but what about ten breaths later?" he asked, already knowing that the mercurial Hawke would never allow himself to be pinned down by such a question. "Am I to be one of your conquests? Forgotten as fast as the morning dew?"

"You know better than that," Hawke said, his breath puffing lightly on Anders' skin. He lightly touched Anders' hips and then more boldly when Anders failed to protest, pulling them together groin to groin.

He couldn't feel anything, not between his layers of patchy silk and robes or Hawke's leather armor, but the intimacy made him gasp and hold his breath. Hawke was only a little shorter than Anders, though his lithe body seemingly always on the go made him seem smaller. In this moment of stillness, Anders caught Hawke's eyes and he thought maybe he could see through the walls Hawke had put up to protect himself.

"You're going to owe everyone a round at the Hanged Man if you don't hurry," Anders said, even while a little voice that was definitely not Justice screamed at him from inside his head. What a stupid thing to say, he didn't want Hawke to leave, he wanted to build a shanty and never leave the Wounded Coast again.

Whatever Hawke saw in Anders' face made him smile. Slowly, like a cat who finally figured out how to get the cream. "I consider it money well spent to get a little alone time with my favorite Apostate," he said, slinking down Anders' body until his knees sent puffs of sand floating away in the breeze.

"D-Don't say that in front of Merril," Anders said as his rebellious legs spread apart on their own. Feathers tickled his cheeks, but he could lift his head from the sight of Hawke slowly unbuckling his belt. "You'll hurt her feelings."

Once he got under Anders' robes, Hawke paused with his hands spread on Anders' naked belly feeling it jerk with every swipe of his thumb. His eyebrows danced though his mouth remained serious, "Do you really want to talk about Merril now?"

"Maker, no," Anders said quickly, biting his lip as Hawke yanked down his breeches and nuzzled along his length. Cautiously, Anders reached out and rested his hands on Hawke's head, gently threading his fingers into Hawke's thick hair.

Hawke teased his tongue along the bottom vein until he reached the tip and then he let it rest on his bottom lip. He looked up, his eyelashes shadowing his amber eyes, and waited. Breath puffed across Anders' sensitive flesh, hot and moist until Anders thought he must be truly damned to feel so wonderful and tortured at the same time.

"Please. Please, Hawke," Anders babbled, squeezing his eyes shut and tightening his grip on Hawke's hair. "You said you would. Don't tease, please don't tease."

Holding Anders' hips tightly, Hawke made a tight ring with his mouth and slid down as far as he could go.

"Holy Andraste," Anders cursed and curled over as far as he could before Hawke's grip stopped him. He held the back of Hawke's neck in his hands, urging the rogue to move, to suck, to do anything. It had been a lifetime since anyone had made him feel so much that wasn't out of anger or revenge.

Heat flooded him, slamming up against his skin like the tide in the middle of a storm. He locked his knees only so he wouldn't fall down as Hawke slurped and tightened his grip at the base of Anders' shaft. None of his fumblings at the Circle in Ferelden could have prepared him for this. Everything focused down to him and Hawke.

The sky,

the earth,

the mages

and the templars

all  
fell  
away.

 

Anders blinked but the white spots refused to go away. He blinked again and the white spots resolved themselves into puffs of cotton floating on the wind. A final blink, and he realized he was looking at clouds.

"What happened?" Anders asked, his head ached, his throat burned, and the skin over his hands was uncomfortably tight.

"What didn't?"

Hawke's voice made Anders sit up immediately. Hawke sat cross-legged next to Anders, looking out at the bay. Scorch marks surrounded them, radiating out in a sunburst pattern, but the scrub trees were frozen inside a finger width of ice. The air smelled like smelting iron, despite the way temperature had noticeably dropped.

"So, has it been a while, or did I just rock your world?"

Groaning, Anders flopped back down on the sand and covered his eyes with his sleeve. Embarrassment warred with exhaustion, and he wondered what the chance of Hawke just leaving him to die in peace. He felt Hawke turn and lean over him. A second later, Hawke lifted Anders arm away and grinned.

"Too bad we didn't do that in Gamlen's house, it could have used a little redecorating," Hawke said, chuckling while he leaned down and palmed Anders' cheek.

The kiss was soft, the pressure barely there until Anders groaned and surged up into Hawke's embrace. When they broke apart, they were both panting, but they were both also grinning like fools.

"You're a lunatic," Anders breathed, resting his forehead against Hawke's shoulder.

"One thing's for sure," Hawke said, standing and reaching to give Anders a hand up, "life will never be boring with you around."

 

 _Justice curled tightly in Anders' chest, seething and waiting._


End file.
